The Arrangement
by manga
Summary: Sometimes love is sudden and raging, like a forest fire. But sometimes it is slow and gradually overwhelming, like a river swelling with the spring thaw. The river's currents can hold you more strongly than the fire's flames. A B/V story.
1. Cat and Mouse

"The Arrangement"   
By manga, the Awesome One in pigtails. 

Vegeta stormed into the house visibly fuming. Bulma smiled to herself in the shadows. Every day was like this with Vegeta - hours of destruction in the gravity chamber followed by hours of sulking after he'd failed to reach Super Saiya-jin. That was the one good thing about living with him - he was so utterly predictable. 

For Bulma, this fact was becoming something of a hobby. First she had merely experimented with various stimuli, but now she was determined to try something new. "Oh, Vegeta... " She purred, stepping out of the shadows. She had no illusions about her 'invisibility'; she'd known perfectly well that he could sense her there. She was, however, determined to be the one in control. 

"What do you want?" Vegeta turned to her with his usual scowl and unimaginative demand. This time, however, his voice faded a bit on the last word and he blinked. There was no change of expression on the rest of his face, but he blinked. 

Bulma smiled at him with a slow, sensual smugness. She was extremely pleased with herself for getting so much of a reaction from him. Vegeta was a master of hiding his emotions (except for anger, which he was always more than happy to share). But she had surprised him into an unguarded blink. 

Actually, the sight in front of Vegeta would have made most men do a lot more than blink. Bulma had aligned herself in a patch of light so that the soft, silvery glow would shine on her just perfectly. It outlined her soft skin, glistened on her sleek, sexy hair - and shone through the thin, dark blue negligee in just the right way to make it tantalizingly transparent. 

Bulma's smile widened as she watched Vegeta's eyes slide down the almost floor length silk gown, then back up the enticingly high slit in the side. 

"What -are- you doing?" he demanded, his brow furrowing in puzzled irritation. 

She tilted her hips saucily, deliberately revealing a glimpse of one long leg. She wasn't the fitness maniac Vegeta was, but she did make it a point to take care of herself. "Doing?" she asked innocently. "I'm not doing anything Vegeta. Or are you afraid that the 'frail little human' is up to something?" 

He snorted and his scowl replaced itself with a smirk. "Afraid of you?" he replied, the scorn and amusement obvious in his voice. 

"You should be," she smiled. "I AM up to something." 

And leaving the prince with that interesting tidbit, she left. 

* * * * * * 

Bulma wasn't sure later just what she was up to. It had started out innocently enough-- just one of her numerous plans to tease him. 3 It was just too much fun to annoy him, and she'd had a lot of time on her hands recently. Her new game was addictive, and she made herself nervous sometimes with just how far she was willing to go. If it had been anyone else, she WOULD have been a little scared but, odd as it sounds, she never felt afraid of Vegeta. 4 It probably had something to do with the fact that he didn't seem to understand what she was doing. Which was probably why she found the game so addictive. Also, as rude and arrogant as Vegeta was, he had a lot more to him than she'd thought. With every sardonic tilt of his eyebrows she wondered just what he was thinking behind his impenetrable black eyes. Besides, how could a man his age fail to understand something as basic as sexual attraction? He was just too fascinating. 

* * * * * * 

"Ah, it's too hot today," Bulma pouted, glaring at her closet. As a scientist, she was meticulous in her organization, but as Bulma Briefs the woman, she was something of a slob. As a result, her closet was still full of her winter/early spring clothes, despite the fact that summer was well advanced. Grumbling, she dug around in her bureau until she found something worth wearing. 

"Oh lord," she laughed, looking at herself in the mirror. "I look like a female Vegeta." The slow, gleefully evil grin that then spread over her face only heightened the resemblance. She eyed her reflection and debated styling her hair (which had been cut and straightened after the break up with Yamcha) straight up, but decided against it. The small white tank top with spaghetti straps and the short, black cotton shorts were enough for what she had in mind. 

The chance to tease AND annoy Vegeta... Today was going to be a great day. 

* * * * * * 

He didn't even do a double take when he came in for lunch, though. Bulma pouted as she nibbled her sandwich in the kitchen. Here she'd made sure to come in from the lab, and he didn't notice. She moved to stand near him, hoping to catch his eye as he plowed through his army of sandwiches. He grunted at her, but he didn't look up. She glowered at him with her hands on her hips-- then narrowed her eyes in thought, studying him. SOMETHING had changed in his body language when she glowered. He still seemed to be ignoring her, but there was just the tiniest twitch of his eyebrows and a tightening on one side of his mouth that gave her the impression of vast amusement. 

Interesting as this new information was, it wasn't the reaction she was trying for and it highly annoyed her. She glared at him hotly, then growled "Shove over, monkey-boy" and flopped into the chair opposite him. Angry she was, but she knew her chances of actually physically pushing him were about the same as the chances of a penguin pushing an iceberg. And Hell would be just as cold as an iceberg too, if she ever managed it. On an irritated whim, she reached out and snatched one of his sandwiches for herself. 

"MINE," he growled, catching her wrist before she'd even finished stretching out her hand. Using what she could only call "Vegeta Power", he managed to look threatening sitting at her kitchen table with one hand holding a half-eaten ham sandwich. 

"It's only yours if you can keep it," she said, sugar-sweet as her other hand flashed out. The nanosecond debate in Vegeta's head-- whether or not to drop the sandwich in his other hand to stop her-- gave Bulma just enough time to grab one. But then Vegeta found one of his unique solutions. Stuffing the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, his other hand shot out and grabbed Bulma's. 

They made quite a scene, sitting there glaring. Vegeta had most of a ham sandwich hanging from his mouth, and his arms were crossed awkwardly. 

"Oh, grow up," Bulma snapped, irritated. Fed up with his attitude, she pulled away and stomped off. 

Victorious, Vegeta dove back into his sandwiches. 

* * * * * * 

Hours later, Bulma stood up from her workbench and stretched prodigiously. She didn't like admitting it, but she got some of her best work done when Vegeta had her so frustrated she could barely see straight. It was bad for her back to spend too long in that cramped position though, so after a minute she decided to loosen up with some Tae kwon do. 

Kicking off her shoes and socks, she wandered over to the space that she'd started to keep clear for this purpose. She brought herself to attention then flowed into the first of the five form sets she'd learned so far. Bulma knew she wasn't very good, but she was only doing it to satisfy herself. She liked the sense of well-being and power that it gave her, but she had no illusions of becoming as good as Goku or the others. She didn't need to be, anyway, since she had them. 

She was having a pleasantly invigorating time when the door to her lab suddenly smashed open and Vegeta stormed in. "What do -you- want?" she snapped, not even pausing. "I'm busy." 

He stopped just out of her reach, more's the pity. It would have been interesting if she could have "accidentally" kicked him. It would probably have broken her foot and done nothing to him, though. 

He was scowling, as usual. "The Gravity Room is malfunctioning," he snapped, folding his arms. 

"Tough break," she said, moving from low to high kick and imagining her foot connecting with his face. "I'm busy." 

"You're not busy. You're dancing around like the little blue-haired idiot you are." 

"Listen you," she snarled, whirling on him with a vicious back-kick and punch combination, "I run a multi-national company. I design all of our high-end products. I don't have time to baby-sit your toy!" 

Since she hadn't actually meant for the attack to connect, it didn't, but Vegeta was now watching her with something predatory in his eyes. "If you want your little company-- or the rest of this mud ball-- to BE here in two years," he snapped, "then you'd damn well BETTER take care of the Gravity Room." 

Bulma's workout had been getting harder and faster since His Royal Brat-ness had intruded. Now her chest was almost heaving for air and she had to stop. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him while she tried to calm down. "Fine. I'll fix it tonight. TONIGHT," she emphasized to cover his expected protest. She continued, hoping to steam roll him. "I have one project that I MUST finish, so don't even try to stop me. You go have dinner or something." 

Vegeta grunted what sounded like an agreement. Bulma stared at him, shocked out of ignore-Vegeta-and-and-keep-yelling mode. He was staring at her hungrily; a shiver ran down her spine. 

//Hm,// she thought, //so THIS is what it takes to get his attention.// She smiled a rather predatory smile of her own and leaned over slightly, exposing more of her cleavage. "We're agreed then," she purred. "You go away now, and I'll fix the gravity room tonight." 

"Whatever," he grumbled. "Just be sure that you DO fix it." He was staring at her. 

"Consider it done, Veggie," she giggled lightly, triumphant. At last she had the key she'd been looking for. Life was going to be a lot more interesting, now. She almost felt sorry for Vegeta. 

Almost. 


	2. Dilemma

Bulma sighed and nibbled on the end of her little finger lazily. She was in the office today, which meant that she was bored out of her mind. There was only so much she could do at a desk, and her malaise was heightened by the sounds of the secretaries chattering away in the front office. Ami was pregnant, from what she could hear, and every spare moment the secretaries had they were busy planning a baby shower. 

Bulma really hated the days she spent at the office. She knew they were necessary, so that she kept in touch with the administration of Capsule Corps, but that didn't mean she liked them. She had at first, until she realized that the women didn't like her and the men were only interested in two things- one of which was money and the other wasn't. Bulma hadn't realized how much it meant to her to be liked, until she'd realized that she wasn't. It was easy enough to write the women off as jealous of her looks, brains and money, but the men were just so... frustrating. They were never interested in HER, which, she supposed, explained why the best friends of the richest woman in the world were a bunch of pretty clueless fighters. Her friends weren't sophisticated, but they were genuine and could be a lot of fun. 

She sighed again. 'Genuine and a lot of fun' had been part of what she loved about Yamcha. On the face of it, he was every girl's dream: tall, dark, and handsome with an edge of danger but a kind heart just waiting to be tamed. But that heart had been tamed just a bit too much, and by the end they just weren't right for each other anymore. He'd wanted too much of her: the marriage, the house, the kids and the little white picket fence. She wanted more of her life. Sure she planned on having a child, maybe even two, some day, but she wanted to keep her independence. Bulma couldn't be like Chi-chi. She admired Chi-chi for her strength and respected her devotion to her family, but that kind of life just wasn't for her. 

However... the squeals and laughter from the secretaries as they planned the baby shower reminded her how much she did want a child of her own. Sure most of her toys as a kid had been lab equipment, but she'd had her share of dolls. She'd even made special slings to carry her 'babies' around with her when she played in her little lab. Bulma'd never understood why people could think that you can't be a mother and be intellectual. She wanted the best of both worlds, and she was determined to have it. 

"So much for Goku's 'prediction'," she said morosely. "It must have been wishful thinking on his part." 

"Ms. Briefs?" Ami Carr pushed the office door open a bit and waited to be called in. 

"Please tell me you don't have more reports for me to look at," Bulma groaned. 

Ami took this as her cue to enter the room, with careful, waddling walk of the thoroughly pregnant. "No, Ma'am. The intercom is being temperamental, and your afternoon meeting has been postponed indefinitely." 

Bulma eyed Ami's rounded stomach with interest and some unabashed envy. "Thank you, Ms. Carr. If you don't mind, may I ask when you are due?" 

Ami smiled and one hand went unconsciously to her stomach. "I don't mind," she said. "I'm due in about three months." 

"You must be happy," Bulma smiled. "How does the father feel? Has he panicked yet?" The women shared an amused, exasperated and understanding smile at men's expense, but then Ami, still smiling, shook her head. 

"There is no father," she said. "Well, there IS, in the biological sense of course, but there's no particular man in my life right now. I got tired of trying to find Mr. Right and took matters into my own hands." 

Bulma's surprise and consternation were obvious. She didn't condemn the woman's choice, but she was a bit shocked that she could admit it so easily. Ami saw, and noticed for the first time a bit of kinship with her boss. She smiled again, and laughed warmly. "No worries. I don't mind talking about it. This is the modern era, after all, and I don't have to let the sub-standard quality of the men around me prevent me from being a mother if I want to." 

Bulma's curiosity got the better of her. "Er, how did you do it?" she asked. 

"Fertility clinic." 

"Ah. Well, congratulations and good luck," Bulma said quickly, realizing that they had strayed off of office-approved topics. 

"Thank you. I'll go call the techs to fix the intercom, Ms. Briefs." 

Bulma nodded and started working on the reports again as Ami left. She was in a bit of a daze for the rest of the day, but it was an exciting and invigorating daze. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of Ami's solution before. Her mind was buzzing and bubbling with schemes and daydreams. Bulma couldn't wait for the day to end so she could do some looking into this. She wasn't sure just where to start, but she was confident she could figure it out. 


	3. Decisions, decisions

At home at last after what had been a long day, Bulma changed into her comfortable clothes: old jeans with the knees ripped from seam to seam and a T-shirt with a neck so worn that it slipped off of one shoulder. She thought the outfit had a kind of classy, relaxed punk look. She wandered downstairs and checked the mail, hoping that her mother hadn't been through it yet. Today was her mother's Gardening Club meeting, so there was a good chance... and, yup, she was in luck. It wasn't sorted, so her mother couldn't have seen it yet. She'd kept her fingers crossed for this. The clinics she'd checked online had told her to expect the brochures in two to three days. Humming happily to herself, she grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass from the kitchen and settled in the dining room with her new reading material. 

She spread her collection on the table and spent awhile perusing them and sipping wine. Most of the clinics looked nice and reputable. She'd have them checked, of course. Being the heir of a major company could make life difficult sometimes. The last thing she needed was news of her decision being made public. It'd be obvious eventually anyway, and she didn't plan on trying to hide it, but she preferred to deal with it in the normal course of events. Having it plastered across every tabloid and newspaper was not her idea of a good way to begin a pregnancy. 

Bulma paused in her reading. Security and privacy were definitely going to be an issue. Even assuming that the clinics would respect her privacy, there was always the problem of the paparazzi. The robots and guards around the compound did a good job of keeping them out, and they'd pretty much stopped even trying since Vegeta had fried a few of them. Fortunately, he hadn't considered them worth more than a warning shot so Capsule Corps had been able to pass the incidents off as accidents involving new laser armed security bots. They'd paid for the reporters' medical expenses, of course, but that was still preferable to funding funeral costs. But CC security was only effective in the compound; once she was out in the city she was fair game. She could take guards with her, of course, but they couldn't protect her from cameras. Maybe she could get Piccolo to go with her and have him use his unique powers to destroy any cameras in range... Bulma shook her head and resolutely put the wine away. If she could think things like that, obviously she'd had a little too much. 

She sighed as she sat back down and rifled through the remaining brochures. The security issue was bothering her, and honestly, she just didn't see anyone in the donor pages that really interested her. She scowled at a picture of a man smiling arrogantly at the camera. "Obviously a ladies' man," she grumbled. "Yeesh. The clinics must take steps to ensure the quality of the donors, but what about inheritable personality traits?" There was no way to meet the donor before she had the procedure done. Also, she had to admit that she wanted the father of her child to be special in some way. Some of the donors claimed to be geniuses but so was she, thank you very much. She wanted something to compliment her already wonderful genes, not match them. Having seen all the danger and insanity in the world, she wouldn't mind if he were a good fighter. She wanted her child to be able to take care of itself, and while training could take care of that it would also be worthless without an adequate physique. 

"What's this?" Bulma paused in her restless sifting through the brochures. "A PANDA?" she exclaimed. "What kind of place is this?" Spurred on by morbid curiosity, she opened it. In big, black letters, it said, 'Help save endangered species!' "Oh. Heh," she laughed at herself. "I must have picked it up accidentally." She giggled lightly, then stared thoughtfully out the window, still smiling. She wasn't paying attention to what she was looking at, she was just thinking through everything she'd been reading, but a unusually loud explosion rocked the gravity chamber sitting on the lawn and snapped her out of her reverie. She stared at it tensely, waiting for Vegeta to come storming out, demanding that she fix the now probably broken gravity generator. "Thank God," she muttered, when nothing else happened. "I don't need to go in there again." Trying to fix the thing was difficult enough normally, but it was practically impossible with an impatient and ever-grumpy Vegeta hovering over her. 

Vegeta. Now there was a thought... 

"Whoa. I must've had more wine than I thought," Bulma muttered. Once she'd thought of it, though, it was hard to ignore. He was certainly strong. He was arrogant beyond belief and had psychopathic tendencies, but Goku and Gohan were proof that Saiya-jins weren't indelibly stained. Raised in a human environment, the child would be normal. Well, normal emotionally, anyway. In addition to that, Vegeta didn't strike her as the family type-- he wouldn't insist on pushing himself into her life and trying to force her into some kind of Donna Reed role. Lastly-- and here was a really odd thought-- as royalty he probably completely understood the whole 'liaison of convenience to get a satisfactory heir' thing. "I can't believe I'm thinking this. Well, no, I can believe it. He is physically attractive and I must admit that behind that arrogance of his he is rather intriguing. I just can't believe I'm being so rational about it." 

Gathering up her brochures, Bulma resolved to think hard about the whole affair for a few days. There was no way she was going to make this kind of decision in one night. As she headed upstairs to her room, she noticed that the pamphlet on the top of her stack was the one from the endangered species society. Glancing out the window at the gravity room, she couldn't help laughing. Now there was another idea. She could see it now. 'Save the Saiya-jin! Only two members of this once proud species now survive but tragically both are male. Cross breeding with humans is the only way to save them. The younger male has been successfully paired with a human female already! Please help us save these rare and awesome beings! The remaining male is the prince of these people. He stands 5'2", is extremely well built and hardy. He is quite intelligent when his ego doesn't get in the way..." Giggling helplessly, Bulma reached her room and tossed the real brochures on the desk then left to rent a movie or something. She needed a break. 


	4. Negotiations

Three days later when Vegeta came in for lunch, Bulma was waiting for him. She had chosen her timing carefully. She'd thought of approaching him at the end of the day, but he was too irritable after another day of failing to reach Super Sayan. She'd decided to catch him at lunch, when he'd be distracted by hunger. 

"Vegeta," she said briskly as soon as he entered the kitchen. "I need to talk to you." 

"Too bad," he grunted. "I need to eat." 

"As I'm sure you've noticed by now, I can talk while you eat." 

"Whatever." Brushing her aside as usual, Vegeta proceeded to pillage the kitchen. Also as usual. 

//I hope I'm up to the task of feeding a Sayan baby,// Bulma mused as she watched him. 

Vegeta looked up from where he was putting together a pile of giant sandwiches. "It's rude to stare," he growled mockingly. 

"Since when have you cared about human manners?" she shot back. 

"I'm not human. You are." 

Bulma seethed in exasperation, but then realized that she was letting him sidetrack her and tried to get a grip on her temper. "Anyway," she said in as businesslike a tone as she could muster when she wanted to hit him upside the head with something large and heavy, "I have a proposition for you." 

Vegeta didn't respond. He picked up his plate and moved to the table, then sat down and started eating. Bulma watched him with eyes narrowed in irritation. She was NOT (even after living with him for a year) used to being ignored. Putting her hands on her hips, she stormed over to the table and ripped the plate of sandwiches away. "Listen, buddy," she snapped, "I have something to say and you're going to listen. What's more, you're going to give me a response. When we're done with that I'll let you get back to stuffing your face, but not before. Do you understand?" 

Vegeta folded his arms and glared at her, but there was something thoughtful in his expression, so Bulma took that as agreement. Now that it had come down to it, she felt nervous, awkward and silly, but figuring that the only way out was through, she took a big breath and barged ahead. 

"I want a baby. To be perfectly blunt about it, I want your baby. I've been thinking about this a lot recently. I want a child, but I don't want a man in my life. I don't need a man complicating my life and making domestic demands of me. I have a very demanding career as it is, and adding motherhood to that will be more than enough for me." 

Vegeta raised a skeptically inquisitive eyebrow. "And you chose me?" 

"Well, yes." Bulma raised her chin defiantly. "I want my child to be strong. You are arrogant and annoying as hell, but you're certainly strong." 

"You aren't worried about the Saiya-jin genes affecting your child's intelligence?" Vegeta sneered. 

She leveled her best 'don't bait me' look at him. "Gohan hasn't been affected." 

As expected, Vegeta grunted and glared at her. After a moment, though, he did something completely unexpected. He raised his head and asked, without a trace of sarcasm, "What's in it for me?" 

Bulma was caught flatfooted. "What?" 

"What do I get out of this little arrangement?" he said, speaking slowly and distinctly, in the tone of 'let me repeat myself so that your poor, befuddled little mind can understand.' 

"Um... Well, what do you want out of it?" 

"Number one: the boy will be named Vegeta. Number two: I will train him." 

"Hang on a sec! What makes you so sure that it'll be a boy? There's a 50 percent chance it'll be a sweet little girl, who looks just like her lovely mother!" 

Vegeta smirked at her. It wasn't one of his usual smirks, it was more like he found her little display amusing. "Saiya-jins have a lower female-to-male birth rate. For humans it may be about 50 percent, but for Saiya-jins it's closer to 25 percent. Also, if you think any Saiya-jin child is going to be sweet, then you're completely delusional." 

Bulma stared at him, still flummoxed by how rationally Vegeta was behaving. She hadn't been sure how he would react to her proposal, but this... this matter-of-fact attitude was BIZARRE. "Whatever," she said. "But I'm not naming him Vegeta." 

Well, there went Vegeta's calm. He stood and snapped at her angrily. "It's a family name and has been tradition since the first Saiya-jin king. He WILL be called Vegeta." 

"Then what do we call you?" Bulma shot back. "Somehow I don't think you'd be that thrilled with being called 'papa'. What do we do then, call him 'Vegeta, Duke of the Sayans'?" 

Vegeta glared at her coldly, but didn't retort as expected. She must have scored a point. She'd better throw him a bone before he broke the deal off entirely. "If you'll remember, I want this kid to be my heir. Given his unique heritage I'll agree to letting you train him, but I will chose his name." 

"This isn't as cut and dry as you'd like to think," Vegeta retorted. "As my son, he'll be next in line for the Saiya-jin throne." 

"There IS NO Sayan throne, Vegeta!" she yelled. "It got destroyed with the rest of your planet 20 years ago, or had you forgotten that little detail?" That was definitely not the right thing to say. The temperature in the room plummeted from the icy waves of anger that were coming off of Vegeta. 

"No I HAVEN'T forgotten it," he ground out. "Which is why I care about this at all. If Vegetasei hadn't been destroyed, then we wouldn't be having this little conversation. But it WAS and I'm all that's left and I'll be damned if I'm going to let it all fade away without a fight." 

They were silent for awhile, glaring tensely at one another. Finally, Bulma gave in. After all, she could always give the poor kid a nickname. "Fine. You win. He gets the name." Vegeta smirked triumphantly. "BUT legally he gets my last name." 

Vegeta waved her off. "I don't care about your silly human legalities. What about point two?" he asked abruptly. 

"I already told you that you can train him. You do realize, though, that that means you're stuck on Earth indefinitely?" 

"I know," Vegeta answered her shortly. "Don't concern yourself about me." 

"I have to be concerned," Bulma muttered. "I don't want to be held responsible if you go off the deep end and kill anybody." Vegeta snorted, but didn't comment. "Do we have an agreement, then?" she asked. 

"You forgot just one thing," Vegeta drawled. Bulma eyed him warily. He had that 'something up my sleeve that you're going to hate' look that she'd learned to loathe. "Just how did you intend to get this child?" 

Bulma smiled slowly, enjoying the look of wariness and confusion that crept over Vegeta's Mr. Tough Man mask. "Why, the old fashioned way, of course."   


Author's Notes:  
In case you're wondering, yes Bulma DID forget to make any provisions for Trunks tail in their little agreement. This will also come up later.  
Before you comment on the Sayan/Saiya-jin switch, pay close attention to who is pronouncing it in what way. This is a small plot point that that'll show up again later. *g* Oh, and don't worry about Trunks' name. That'll be taken care of. 

Please review! If you like it, tell your friends! Onegaishimasu! ^_^ 


	5. Fulfilling the contract, part one

Hey, folks. This chapter is a bit lemony. More like heavy lime, I guess-- You know quite well what's going on, but I'm don't go into detail. I'm sorry it took so long to get out, but I lost my connection for about 7 weeks. On the other hand, I did get some writing done for once. :)   


The door to Bulma's room burst open and they fell through, pawing hurriedly at each other. Bulma found herself pinned to the floor by a very insistent Vegeta. "Not here," she gasped, kissing his neck, his ear, whatever was in reach as they fumbled with each other's clothes. 

"Then where?" he growled at her as he fought with the buttons on her shirt. 

She was trying to pull his white muscle tee off. "On the bed, Vegeta, the bed. That's what they're for!" 

"And here I thought they were for sleeping," he muttered sarcastically. 

"Well, that too, but I really don't find cold carpet to be that much of a turn on, and I'd like to get off of it." 

Vegeta grinned wickedly down at her and pressed his hips harder against her. "You don't seem to mind too much," he said as her body pressed up against his in reaction. 

Bulma glared at him. "Let's see how you like it!" she snapped, pushing hard against him and flipping him over. In a flash she was straddling him and finally got his shirt off. He smirked up at her and started playing with the button of her jeans. 

"There are advantages to it," he said, trying to slip a finger into her pants. 

She grinned down at him, running her hands admiringly over his chest. "At least let me close the door," she said. He shifted underneath her, reached a foot out and kicked the door shut. 

"Now can we get on with it?" he said, staring at her with a predatory hunger that gave her goosebumps. 

She'd rarely had his full attention before, but she definitely had it now. She found the intense look in his dark eyes thrilling. She smiled smugly and unhooked her bra. Running one hand slowly over one breast, she reached her other hand behind her and ran it teasingly over his crotch. 

With a gasping growl, he sat bolt upright. He put one hand on her back, pulling her close and slid a finger into her panties. Their faces were centimeters away, their mouths teasing each other hungrily and their eyes locked. Bulma bared her teeth at him and threw herself against him, knocking them over. She scrambled up and got the bed between them. She was panting, but he wasn't even breathing that hard! She glared at him. "Why are you holding back for me?" she asked. 

He grinned sharkily at her, baring his own teeth. "It's no fun if you can't keep up." 

"I'll show YOU 'keep up', boy!" she stormed furiously. Throwing herself across the bed, she grabbed his waistband and hauled him down on the bed with her. He laughed. 

* * * * *

"Well, that was interesting," she said, much later. It had been, too. His technique wasn't anything brilliant, and a few times she'd even found herself wondering if he'd ever had sex before, but what they had done... 'Making love' could never be applied to it. It was closer to 'making war'. It had been an epic struggle for control, no quarter given or taken, and she had enjoyed every moment. 

Vegeta glanced at her from the corner where he was pulling his shorts back on, but he didn't respond. 

"Post-coital talk just isn't your thing, is it?" she asked rhetorically. He grunted and smirked. She rolled over, taking the chance to admire his body again. "So, same place, same time tomorrow night?" she asked. 

Again he declined to respond, but the burning glance he gave her was answer enough. 

"Goodnight, Vegeta," she said. 

* * * * * 

The next morning, she looked at the mountain of food her mother had prepared and sighed. "How on Earth can he eat like that and not gain an ounce?" she grumbled in jealous exasperation. 

"Now Bulma, it's not like that," her mother beamed. "He just gains muscle instead of weight. You can't tell me you haven't noticed," the blond tittered. 

Bulma just managed not to choke. She still couldn't believe that her mother-- repeat her MOTHER, who had been happily married for about 30 years-- could talk about Vegeta like that. "That's even worse," she groused. "That he can eat THAT," she gestured to the piles of eggs, bacon, toast and fruit, "and stay FIT! It's inhuman, that's what it is." 

"I'm NOT human, dimwit," Vegeta growled from the door. "If you're really the genius you say you are, then you people are even more pathetic than I thought." Leveling a hard stare at her, he stalked to the table and started eating. 

//And here I thought getting laid was supposed to make you less tense,// Bulma grumped to herself. //I guess Vegeta is the exception. The jerk seems to thrive on conflict.// 

Glaring daggers at him and wishing that she had a good comeback, she sat down and started eating her own-- much lighter-- breakfast. 

* * * * * *

A few nights later she was in her room waiting for him to finish training for the day. She stared at the ceiling, puzzling over her favorite enigma. Namely Vegeta. //What's with the Jekyll and Hyde routine?// she wondered. //During the day he's just Vegeta, The Training Machine. When we're together at night, however, he's more HERE somehow.// He was actually here now; she could hear him coming up the stairs as if he hated each one. The door to her room banged open, impacting loudly with the wall. Vegeta stomped in and, catching the door on the rebound, kicked it shut behind him. 

"What did you do that for??" Bulma yelled at him. "This is my house that you're wrecking and if you want to keep the Gravity Room, then you'd better start behaving with a little more consideration!" 

He didn't flare up at her outburst. He stayed where he was and stared at her with dead black eyes. The silence and the staring made her nerves crawl. "Well?" she asked with nervous anger, "are you going to come in or not?" 

He grunted at her, but walked toward the bed anyway. 

"Sheesh. What's with you tonight?" she asked when he got there. He sat on the edge of the bed and didn't respond. She reached out and pulled his white T-shirt off, exposing a spectacular set of bruises and a few burn marks. A hand flew to her mouth as she tried to hide her immediate gasp of sympathy. Vegeta stared stonily ahead. Tentatively, she put out a hand and started tracing the largest of the bruises. It started on the middle left of his back then it splashed around toward his front, irregularly following the line of his lower ribcage. //He must have over done it,// she thought, //but that doesn't account for his behavior, he's done this much and worse before...// Her thoughts trailed off for a second. //How many times has he come in looking this bad?// she asked herself slowly. //And he's still hasn't reached his goal. I think I would have had some kind of breakdown by now, if I were him.// She was still lightly tracing the bruise. After another minute she noticed that Vegeta had turned slightly and was staring at her. She didn't stop tracing and returned the stare levelly. "You're scary, you know that?" 

A smirk ghosted across his face, then he frowned. "What are you doing?" he asked. 

"Nothing," she said, watching as her fingers strayed from the bruise and started wandering over the network of scars that covered his torso. 

"Well, stop it," he snapped. 

She paused slightly. "Why? Does it hurt?" 

"Of course not!" 

"Then why should I stop?" 

"Because I told you to!" 

Now she smiled. "And since when have I done what you told me to?" 

"You'd better start, if you want to live through the night," he growled. 

"If you kill me," she pointed out sweetly as her fingers lingered on a razor-thin scar with a particularly jagged one next to it, "then we won't have any more play time together." She looked up and smiled even more when she saw that he seemed to be thinking that over. She sat up, and putting one hand on his chest, pushed him down on the bed. He stared hard at her, but he must have decided that it was harmless, because he let her continue. She went over every inch of his body like that, slowly and lightly, until she stopped at his tail stub. 

"Leave that alone," he growled. 

She sat back and just looked at him silently. He was lying on the bed before her, and the soft light of her lamps glowed on his skin. It turned his body into a bright and shadowy map of pain. //How much of that was done to him, and how much of it did he do to himself?// she wondered. 

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." 

His sharp words shook her out of the strange thoughtful mood she was in. "Now there's an interesting idea," she said, grinning evilly at him. "Could I show it to my friends?" 

"Of course not!" he yelled, reflexively putting himself into an attack position. 

"You're so cute when you're shocked and indignant." 

He sputtered in rage. 

She grinned at him. 

I hope you liked it. Please, review! Nothing grows without nurturing. :) 


	6. I think I'm paranoid

Another night, another visit. Strange how quickly it had become a routine. Bulma watched sleepily as Vegeta pulled his shorts back on. "Hey," she said, sitting up and propping her head on her fist. "Why don't you ever spend the night? You don't HAVE to go back to your room every night." 

He didn't even glance at her. "Don't be an idiot." 

"How is that being an idiot?!" she yelled. Good grief, she'd never known anyone so frustrating! "It's a natural question! We've been doing this for a few weeks now, and you've never once stayed. If you hate me that much, why did you even agree?!" 

"If I hated you, you'd have more to worry about than our little agreement." 

"Whatever. I don't like you coming and going like this. It's so-- so cold and impersonal." He raised an eyebrow at her, and she moved on before he could make a comment. "It bothers me. You seem to be enjoying yourself, and I know I am--" //Brilliant, Bulma,// she immediately thought, seeing the huge smirk that plastered itself across Vegeta's face. //Give him something new to be arrogant about.// "Anyway, I thought we were partners in this. Don't you trust me?" 

He was looking at her like she'd just asked the most ridiculously basic question in the world. "I don't trust anyone," he said. 

She stared at him, nonplussed. She knew bits and pieces about his life, and it stood to reason that the life of an intergalactic planet pirate/mercenary was a far from peaceful one... But she'd grown up on placid little Earth and had never learned paranoia as a survival skill. Looking at it now, staring at her out of Vegeta's black eyes and through his perpetual scowl, it made her sad. Also, after a moment, determined to change it. 

"Now who's being an idiot?" she asked, smirking. 

"WHAT?" he growled. "The high-and-mighty Prince of the Sayans, afraid of one little human woman." she said with off-hand sarcasm. 

"I am NOT afraid of you!" he snapped. 

Bulma smiled triumphantly. "Then you can spend one night in the same bed with me." 

"Maybe I can," he said, "but we'll never know because I'm not going to." 

"So you're afraid of me after all?" 

"I AM NOT AFRAID OF YOU! Where in hell are you getting that?!" 

"Prove it to me." 

"I don't have to prove anything to you." Ooooh was he glaring now! Bulma grinned smugly. 

"I think tomorrow I'll call Goku and tell him about how you're so scared of me." 

Vegeta raised a hand and blasted her phone. She jumped out of her skin, then shot him a death look. Pissed as she was about his attitude and the loss of her phone, she was getting more and more determined to see this through. He WOULD spend the night if she had to chain him to the bed. "You know," she said, narrowing her eyes, "everything you're doing is only convincing me that I'm right." 

"Fine!" he yelled, stomping over to the other side of the bed. "If it will SHUT YOU UP I'll stay for ONE NIGHT." 

"There," she said as he settled himself in. "See? It's not so bad." No answer. "Goodnight." 

He jerked the pillow up and pulled it over his head. 

* * * * * *

When Bulma woke up the next morning, Vegeta was gone. At first she was disappointed but not surprised. Then she found him slumped in her desk chair. //He can't possibly be comfortable like that,// she thought, watching him. He had managed to fall asleep sitting up with his arms folded and his head sunken on his chest. Reaching down to throw off her blankets and get out of bed, Bulma stopped in surprise. Her mother had joked that she slept like an eggbeater, but this morning her blankets looked more like a tornado had gone through. On the side of the bed that Vegeta had taken last night, they'd been ripped out and twisted into Gordian knots. 

"It's about time you woke up," Vegeta said. Bulma's eyes snapped back to find him staring at her with grim satisfaction and irritation. "I have met your challenge. I don't want to hear anything about this again, do you understand?" 

"No you haven't," she said. "I challenged you to stay in the same bed. I said nothing about a chair across the room." 

"And -I- said that I would stay. I didn't say where, now did I?" 

She glared at him. "Don't dice words with me." 

"I have stayed for one night. I am never going to do so again. That's all there is to it." With that, he got up and left. 

"Grump," she muttered, staring down at the remains of her bed. "Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed. He didn't even stick around for a good argument." She paused. Vegeta? Pass up an argument? Not likely. She frowned, trying to remember how he had looked. Now that she thought about it, he had had dark circles under his eyes and his eyes had lacked their usual ferocity. He'd looked exhausted. Looking at the state of her bed, she sighed. Had he actually gotten any sleep last night? 

He'd probably been jerked awake every time she rolled over. And that twitch thing she did-- she usually dreamed that she was falling when she was on the edge of sleep. Usually she slid from there into sleep, but sometimes she woke up with a jerk. She'd done it last night. Vegeta had grown up in Frieza's army, which from what she had heard gave new meaning to 'it's a dog-eat-dog world.' "You're not paranoid if they ARE out to get you," she said quietly in realization. 


	7. Better Luck Next Time

Bulma stared blankly at the red spots staining her underwear. Mechanically she cleaned herself up and threw the ruined garment into the trash. She stood in the middle of the bathroom building up steam for a good holler. She indulged herself in one frustrated howl, but then got a grip on herself. 

"It's not fair!" she groused. "It's just not fair. Chichi got pregnant their first night! I thought Saiyans were supposed to have super sperm!" She hadn't realized just how much she was looking forward to having this baby. She wasn't prepared for the sense of loss she felt now, and it was a while before she felt ready to go out and face the world again. 

"Okay, Bulma," she said to herself at last. "So you aren't pregnant yet. No biggie. This was only the first try, there's always next month. There's no need to get worked up about it." She hit the floor, but in a playfully aggravated kind of way. "I'll go work in the lab for awhile. Nothing calms me down like creating another mind-boggling miracle!" Having successfully vented and recovered, she nodded happily to herself and set off. 

* * * * * *

"Whew!" she said as she threw herself onto her bed. She had successfully submerged herself in her lab all afternoon and was feeling much better emotionally, but she was beat! "Oh man," she moaned, stretching. "That was far too much time sitting on that stupid lab chair! Tomorrow I start developing one that doesn't wreck my back." Bulma glanced at the clock and was relieved to find she had plenty of time to relax and still be able to get a good night's sleep. "It's pampering time!" 

She'd just settled herself into her bed with her most comfortable blanket, a mug of hot chocolate loaded down with whipped cream and her favorite movie when Vegeta strolled in. 

"What are you doing?" he asked scornfully as he took in her comfy little tableau. 

"Oh, Vegeta," she said, frowning irritably at him. "Not tonight, okay?" An Earth man might have picked up on the clues and figured out what was going on, but Vegeta wasn't and therefore didn't. 

He folded his arms and glared at her. She was tempted to tell him how petulant he looked, but she didn't feel like goading him tonight. "Why not?" he demanded bluntly. 

"Because I'm on my period!" she said, returning his glare. "Now go away and let me have my chocolate before I decide to kill someone. Preferably you." 

"I'd like to see you try," he sneered. "I haven't had a good laugh for awhile." 

"Just go away, Vegeta. I'm not in the mood tonight." 

"Who'd want to sleep with such a moody bitch anyway?" he snarled, then turned and stormed out of the room. 

Bulma snickered to herself. "I think he's sulking!" 

* * * * * *

"I demand an explanation." 

Vegeta was in her room, for the third night in a row. Bulma felt like she was being personally treated to a show of just how far beyond persistent Vegeta could be. She sighed irritably. "Like I told you last night, and the night before that-- I'm on my period. That means no bed time games." 

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her, snarling quietly and folding his arms imperiously. "What," he growled, obviously furious at being forced to admit ignorance, "is this 'period'?" 

Bulma was completely nonplussed. "Uh..." she said, staring at him in blank shock. "It's... um... It's... You really don't know?" 

"Why the hell should I?" he snapped. "I have better things to do with my time than study the workings of the female Human!" 

"How did female Saiyans work, then?" 

"I might explain it to you, if you tell me what this 'period' thing is." 

"Sit down, Vegeta," she said, patting the bed next to her. "DON'T get any funny ideas," she said, responding to a minute change of expression on his face. "I just don't feel like craning my neck to look at you over there." He stalked over, dropped himself on the bed and sat there glaring at her impatiently. Now that he was sitting in front of her, waiting for her explanation, Bulma's mind started gibbering in disbelief. //I've got to teach Vegeta Sex Ed?// She wasn't sure whether she wanted to bury her head under the pillows in mortification or roll on the floor laughing. Since either option would push him beyond what his limited temper could take, she took a calming breath and began. 

"Human women have an organ in their bodies called the uterus. The uterus is where infants grow." 

"You mean that you-- the baby-- THERE?" Vegeta said, pointing at her stomach and looking surprised and curious. 

Bulma laughed. "More or less. A little lower, actually." She patted her belly and smiled beatifically, imagining the feel of a baby. Vegeta waved a hand in front of her eyes impatiently. 

"Your species is even more bizarre than I thought. But you still haven't explained this 'period' thing." 

She glared at him for interrupting her daydream. "Well," she snapped, "once a month the uterus grows a special lining that'll help to nourish the baby, but if no baby is started in that time, the lining is shed. That's a period." A thought struck her. "If you didn't know any of this... why did you agree to sleep with me?" 

Vegeta turned his head to glare at the wall, and Bulma was struck (momentarily) speechless at the sight of the blush creeping up the back of his neck. "I told you," he said gruffly. "I didn't know how human women worked. I figured that you had to know what you were doing; you humans are stupid but any species THAT stupid wouldn't be in the position that yours is in." 

"Rule number one of zoology, Vegeta. If two species can breed and produce fertile offspring, then they're actually the same species. What about little Gohan, hmm?" 

"Well, there's a few more years before we have all the data on THAT, ," he growled, obviously displeased with the implication that Saiyans and Humans were the same species. Seeing her puzzled frown, he grinned wickedly. "Unless you were planning on trying to breed the brat now?" 

"WHAT?" she shouted. "He's only nine, that's just sick!" 

"My point exactly," Vegeta said smugly. 

"Jerk." Vegeta only smirked at her. 

"One thing you haven't explained yet, . How long will your 'period' last?" 

Their odd conversation was bringing out the scientist in her. "Periods usually last from three to five days. My periods, however, last about six days." 

"Three more nights to go," he grunted, then stood to leave. 

"Hold it right there, bud!" she said, lunging forward and grabbing the back of his shirt. "You haven't told me about Saiyan women!" He turned and stared at her coldly. Glaring defiantly at him, she tugged on his shirt, trying to make him sit again. He snorted and pulled out of her grip easily. To her surprise though, he didn't leave. He just stood there next to her bed with his arms folded. 

"First of all , it's 'Saiya-jin' not 'Saiyan,'" he said. "If your son is going to be of my blood, you should at least be able to pronounce his noble heritage." 

Bulma frowned. "Sayajin," she said. He scowled at her. 

"Sa-ii-ya-jin," he said, pronouncing each syllable clearly, if irritably. 

"Sa-ii-ya-jin," she repeated triumphantly. She recognized the look on his face as his version of a wolfish grin-- a deep smirk with his lips open just enough to reveal the tips of his canine teeth. 

"Saiya-jin," he said, practically spitting it out. 

"Saiya-jin," she responded quickly. 

"Much better," he said smugly. He looked both pleased and disgruntled that she'd caught on so quickly. 

"Now, about Saiya-jin women," Bulma prodded. 

"Saiya-jin women had a much neater arrangement than you do. When they were of breeding age, their ransou--" 

"Their what?" 

"Ransou-- their egg organs." 

"Oh. Ovaries." 

"Whatever. Their 'ovaries' were removed and cataloged in the gene banks. Their genes were analyzed and matched with the best suiting male genes. Infants were conceived and brought to term in birthing pods." 

Bulma felt a little sick at the thought. How impersonal-- how did anyone have a family? Forgetting who she was talking to, she blurted her question out. To her surprise, Vegeta answered calmly. 

"Girls were raised by their mothers, boys were raised by their fathers." 

Bulma was quiet for a moment, her mind working busily over this new information. Then her head snapped up. "So, did Saiya-jins have sex or not?" she asked, stopping Vegeta in his tracks. He sputtered at her from the doorway. 

"Of course!" 

"What was it like?" 

"I was five years old when Freeza destroyed the planet!" Vegeta had turned beet red. 

"So you don't know," she said, obscurely disappointed. 

"No, I don't!" he snapped, sounding almost panicked. Bulma relented and let him off the hook, even though it was so much fun to have His Grumpiness so flummoxed. 

"Oh well," she shrugged. "I guess I'll see you later, okay?" 

"If you're lucky," he muttered, trying not to be obvious about his haste to leave. He failed. 

* * *

BTW, if you're interested in joining my mailing list to know when I (finally) update, just email me at SailorChildmoon@hotmail.com and I'll be glad to! Please review! 


	8. Movie Night

"One more night to go," Bulma said to herself, looking at the clock from her position on the couch. Vegeta had managed to completely avoid her since the night of the sex-ed chat. To her surprise, she had discovered that she missed him. How that could be, she wasn't sure. They didn't exactly spend those night-time visits engaged in deep conversation. If there was one thing that she was learning about Vegeta though, it was that he could say a lot without words. 

Sighing thoughtfully, Bulma drew her knees up to her chest. //Before our arrangement, I thought he was easy to read and predictable, but recently that's changed,// she mused. //His over-all motivations haven't changed, and in regards to those he's still the same, but in regards to me and what we have...I can't figure him out. He's NEVER missed a night, no matter how badly he's beaten himself in training. You'd think this mattered to him or something.// Just then, she heard Vegeta coming up the stairs to the living level. "Vegeta," she called, remembering her little plot and standing up quickly. The sound of his footsteps paused. 

"What?" he answered after a minute, his voice flat and tired. 

"Come in here, I've got something for you," she replied. There was another pause, then Vegeta could be heard coming toward the living room, his tread slow and measured. Bulma smiled slightly at him when he entered the room. He raised an eyebrow inquiringly, and she gestured toward the TV and the mountain of super-buttered popcorn on the table. 

"What's this?" he asked. 

"I haven't seen you for awhile," she answered brightly. "I want to spend some time with you." 

"What for?" He was frankly confused. 

"Because I want to. If I want to and I can, why shouldn't I?" The look on his face was still more incredulity than acceptance. "Look, I know you don't care about human emotions and all that, but I do, and I think it's a little weird that we can take part in such an intimate arrangement and not be at least a little more social with each other than we are." 

"There's only one way that I want to be 'social' with you, and according to you, we can't do that until tomorrow night." 

"C'mon, Vegeta. I made lots of popcorn just for you." 

He snorted. "'Just for me?' I've seen the way you go through popcorn, Bulma. That mountain on the table has nothing to do with any consideration you have for me." To her mild relief, he was smiling a little. "And that's a nice shade of red you're turning," he added, a slight laugh evident in his voice. 

"Oh, shut up," she muttered. This time he laughed out-right. "ANYway," she continued, glaring at him. "I want your opinion on something." 

"What?" Now the look on his face was purely incredulous, though after a moment suspicion started to take over. 

"Sheesh, Vegeta, you'd think no one's ever asked for your opinion before-- Oh." She pulled back a bit in the face of his flinty expression. One of the first lessons that everyone in the Briefs' household had learned about Vegeta was that the past was Not Mentioned. He simply wouldn't talk about it. //Ok, Bulma,// she thought, //apparently no one ever HAS asked his opinion. How can we take advantage of this?// "Well, whatever's gone on before Vegeta, I am asking now." 

For a while there was no response, then he focused on her again. "On what?" he asked. 

"Come here and I'll show you!" Flopping back down onto the couch, she patted the seat next to her. Looking like it was against his better judgment, he accepted her invitaion. He settled himself next to her, not on the far end of the couch, but not too close either. "Great!" she said, impulsively hugging him before she grabbed the remote. Ignoring his consternation, she pushed a bowl of popcorn at him and started babbling on about the movie. 

"It's this great martial arts film, which by the way, is what I want your opinion on. It stars the best martial arts actor ever, Jackie Chan, and I've always wondered just how realistic his moves actually are. I figured, who better to tell me, you know?" 

"And at what point are we going to watch this movie?" Vegeta asked sarcastically as he reached for one of the big mugs of root beer. 

"Oops. Forgot to push 'play'-- What are you DOing?!" 

Vegeta flicked an amused glance at her before popping the now root beer-soaked popcorn into his mouth. A shrug. "It's good." 

The Federal Warning came up on the TV screen bathing them in feeble light. "That's just so-- so--" she groped for words. 

"Don't knock it 'till you've tried it," he said archly, then glanced at her consideringly. Too late she saw the spark in his eyes, and he flicked a root beer-covered kernel into her open mouth. Before she'd really thought about it, she'd closed her mouth and started chewing. It...wasn't bad. Kind of buttery, sweet and salty all at once. Curious, she reached out and took a handful of popcorn from her own bowl and dipped some into her mug of root beer, like Vegeta was doing. They were actually pretty good. The movie started before she could say anything, though. 

Two minutes into it, Vegeta was ready to kill Chris Tucker. In her peripheral vision she could see his hands clench and unclench. She turned to face him fully and saw that he was glaring intently at the screen, that one vein in his forehead throbbing. "It gets better," she offered. 

"It'd better. If I don't see some of those martial arts you were talking about soon, I'm leaving," he snapped. Fortunately, the movie soon picked up, though Bulma wasn't sure she liked the smile on Vegeta's face when Chan and Tucker went to the massage parlor. 

"The loud-mouthed skinny guy just about ruined it," was the first thing Vegeta said when it was over. 

"But he was so funny!" Bulma protested. 

"He was irritating and ineffectual. I find it hard to believe that he was supposed to be an officer." 

"Whatever, Vegeta. -I- still think he was funny. But I want to know what you thought of the martial arts, not the actors." 

Vegeta sat back, folding his arms thoughtfully. The way his eyes unfocused, Bulma could tell he was replaying all the relevant scenes. "Well," he said at last, "it did show an interesting use of the fighting environment, but most of it was worthless. Just cheap acrobatic tricks." 

"Wow. You sound like you're really annoyed by that. You must take this stuff really seriously." 

"No shit," he said dryly. 

"Oh yeah. The 'Gotta train all day, must become Super-Saiya-jin' thing." 

"You know nothing," he snapped, standing up and pacing. "Fighting is not a game! You're proving your right to exist out on the battlefield and that," he paused to draw another breath, "THAT was a weak, sad, pathetic mockery, dreamed up by amatuers for the entertainment of weaklings." 

Bulma blinked up at him. She'd never heard him sound like that, so serious and indignant. Like a housewife who'd just been told that someone envied her for having such an easy job. Like he felt like she did, when some chauvanistic executive patted her on the head and spoke condescendingly of her 'tinkering'. She smiled slightly at him. 

Abruptly he stopped pacing. "Stand up." Barely giving her time to respond, he hauled her off of the couch and began clearing a space on the floor. Interaction with the Saiya-jin was rare enough that Bulma decided to go along with whatever he was doing. When he had finished, he pushed her to the other side of the space and took up a fighting stance. She looked at him questioningly and he indicated that she follow his lead. 

"I hope know what you're doing. I have been practicing Tae kwon do for awhile now. I could probably kick your butt!" she couldn't resist bragging. 

A fierce sharp grin crossed Vegeta's face. "That's the funniest thing I've ever heard. I am not trying to spar with you, you poor deluded little scientist, I am merely demonstrating a point. Now, come at me." 

"Are you sure?" She kept up the bravado, ignoring the frantic part of her mind that was trying to calculate just how much faster and stronger Vegeta was. 

"Yes. And as you do, try to kick that foot stool at me, like they did in the movie." 

One swift kick sent the stool hurtling straight at Vegeta's knees and Bulma followed close behind it. Instead of jumping over it as they had done in the movie though, Vegeta kicked it back at her, forcing HER to jump up, which she did with a squeak. In the next instant her breath was knocked out of her as Vegeta slammed into her. They flew back and landed on the couch. 

"Erf." Rubbing her ribs, which were aching from the crash, Bulma sat up. "And just what point were you making?" she asked Vegeta. 

He was watching her, a small, satisfied smile playing in the corners of his mouth. "How well did jumping over that stool work for you?" 

"It didn't," she grumped. "But you have that whole super speed thing going!" 

"I had adjusted for your limitations." He leaned forward. "Even if I hadn't though, the point is that without the ability to manipulate ki or something to push off of, jumping around only makes you an easier target." 

A light bulb flashed over Bulma's head. "I was stuck on the vertical plane, and without any way for me to change that, it was easy for you to figure out where I would be and plan a counter-attack." 

Vegeta nodded sharply. "You're not as dense as you look." 

"I'm not dense at all!" Indignation turned her cheeks red. 

"You just needed someone else to remind you that you could wish Kakarot to Earth before wishing him back." 

"I would have thought of it sooner or later!" 

"Right." 

"Why, you...!" 

"You're right, though." His tone changed from baiting to exaggeratedly thoughtful. "You have to have some sense. After all, you did ask me to father your child." 

"And you can't be as stupid as you look, because you agreed!" she snapped back. 

He didn't respond, he only sat there smirking, obviously feeling pleased with himself and having a good time. Bulma found herself coming to a conclusion that left her blinking in confusion. Was this his idea of normal conversation? That possibility threw an interesting light on his behaviour. She'd have to think about it some more. Smiling, she stretched and stood up. "Well, it's getting late and apart from playing gymanstics with you, I'm bushed. I'm going to bed." 

"Whatever." Disappointment flashed briefly in his dark eyes. 

"Anyway, thanks for not blowing up the TV when Chris Tucker got to be too much for you." 

He smirked. Bulma's best guess was that it was some kind of cocky 'you're welcome' smile. 

On a sudden impulse, she reached out and grabbed his hand. Squeezing it warmly, she smiled at him. "This was fun. We'll have to do it again sometime-- without Chris Tucker. Good night, Vegeta. See you tomorrow." So saying, she pushed past him and headed for her bed room. 

Was it her imagination, or had she heard him say "See you tomorrow" in return? 


End file.
